Trauma History  

I am scared of making things up.  My brother’s wife was caught up in the Memory Wars and created a whole world of satanic rituals, sacrificing and eating children.  It destroyed my brother in many ways, and damaged their daughters. One is fully recovered, and is a bright, loving woman with 5 wonderful kids.  The other is ok on the surface, but there is still a lot of hurt inside.

What I know:

When my sister was a baby, my mom shook her hard enough that she had injuries detectable by X-ray as an adult. (Source: Sister)  Added later:  Sis said that she got mom to admit to this, and mom added that at the time she thought that shaking was better than hitting.

When she was a young girl (11) my dad came home to find my mom trying to throw her through the wall, repeatedly screaming “I will hit you, and hit you and hit you all day long.  (Source: Sister)  Sis says while able to communicate, she never trusted mom after that.

Age 2: My sister  came home from school, and stopped my mother, who was screaming, from throwing me, who was shrieking, against a wall.  She was 15, grade 10. (Source: Sister)

Age 2?:  “helping” my mom with laundry, I drop a 1 gallon bottle of bleach.  It hits square on the bottom, and opens like a lotus blossom.  I get stabbed on my wrist.  Brother’s first aid keeps most of the blood inside.  Still have the scar. Source: mom. (I don’t consider this either abuse or neglect, but include it as an indicator of the home environment) 

Age 3 minus, I moved out of the crib upstairs to a second bed in my brother’s room, downstairs at the other end of the house. (Sources: Sister; personal memory.  Personal memory: only sure that it was before  age 4)

Age 3: My behaviour changed.  Before, I had the toddler’s usual attitude toward clothing or lack thereof.  After, I had to be fully dressed, including socks.  Even in the house.  Even sleeping. Sources: Time of change, sister. The change occurred while she was gone to a drama camp in late summer.  Source: personal memory.  Lasted well into my teens.  Didn’t go barefoot in my mom’s house until I was an adult.  Never was shirtless there.  I did start wearing shorts in summer starting about 9, but not until  got really hot. I was very self conscious about it for the first week or so.  Still wore a t-shirt under a button shirt..

Age 3:  Behaviour change included extreme emotional  dysregulation.  Several stories from sis about how much of a pain I was to have around.  Tantrums and tears for tiny things.  I got that under some degree of control at least for school.  Sis says my Kindergarten teacher “tamed me”  (Source, sister, brother, personal memory of crying a lot at little things from about age 4-5 through grade school) 

Age 4 to early teens: When upset, I did NOT run toward a caregiver, but rather ran away to hide. (Specific memory of hiding in the coal chute, having a secret place in a clump of lilacs, climbing into an elm in the backyard, hiding in the clothes chute, hiding between two mattresses in a ratty saggy bed in the basement. Hiding in my clothes closet. Later I would get on my bike and ride and ride and ride, tears streaming down my face. )  Or find a quiet place and hug my dog (think of a blond somewhat chunky beagle).  A dog soaks up infinite tears. Source: Personal memory.

Age 4: Story from Sister. I am present sitting on the floor,  mom yelling at dad about burning holes in his suit (pipe smoker). Dad goes ashen. Tight lipped.  Says nothing.  My sister says I echoed my father’s body language.  Sister tells me that some kind of yelling match was a weekly or more occurrence.  Mom tells me later that she and Dad had a policy of never arguing in front of the kids.  This conflicts with the above. However even now I cringe and feel nauseous, serious  anxiety, watching total strangers yell at each other on TV.  

Age 4 or maybe 5:  I walk in on my parents having sex on a Saturday morning.  I retreat, saying nothing, unseen. Went to watch cartoons.  I did not ask them about it.  Unusual as I remember asking everything about everything at that age.  My sister reports similar experiences.

Age 4  Maybe 5: Started to masturbate.  Found that it felt good rubbing my groin along the edge of my mattress.  Knew at the same time was shameful and parents wouldn't approve.

Age 4, maybe 5.  Could be later. Helping my dad do laundry.  I get my left  hand caught in the wringer. Gets up almost to my elbow before my dad can put the wringer in neutral.  Then release the pin that holds it close.  I have vague memories of wearing an ace bandage and some splinty thing for a few days.  

Age 5:  On a holiday I often had to share a bed with my brother.  I insisted on sleeping above the top sheet, so that, “Our parts won’t get mixed up” (Story repeated by my mom, and brother)

Age 6:  I might have had a birthday party.  About 6 friends came over.  This is the only party I ever had at home, for birthday or any other reason. I went to other kids' parties fairly frequently. Note:  I'm no longer  sure of this event.  The details of the room don't match my memories of our house.  It may have been me attending a party at a friends.  From what I can remember it could have matched either the Raunio house or the Clark house. 

Age 6:  Brother requested, and got a 12 layer birthday cake. I helped mom make it, moving cake layers with coatings of chiffon, or whipped cream to and from the freezer in the basement. I didn't twig onto the irony. (Source: personal memory)

Age 7:  Sister (primary caregiver) vanishes about 2 months before my 7th birthday.  No explanation at the time.  As if she had been erased, become and unperson.  She was pregnant.  Parents didn't tell either my brother or me.  Didn't want the scandal if it leaked.  Sis returns for Christmases now-and-then starting three years later. Sis told me I had a niece when I was 22.

Age 7.  With my sister gone, I think the emotional neglect starts to have an impact.  Mom has uncontrolled diabetes, with huge mood swings plus anger management issues plus postpartum psychosis, plus depression, plus self image problems.  The neglect is intermittent.  Physical needs were met.  I have an intellectual bond with my father, but not an emotional one. He was emotionally distant, remote, raised in the school, “Men don’t show emotions”

Age 7 or 8:  I have some recollection of physical abuse.  Being slammed backward into a door, getting the breath knocked out of me, neck whiplash, sore head.  Also slaps. The evidence for this is very murky.  Mostly a vivid dream and later a  lucid dream, where I step in and ask my mom why, then comfort my younger self.

In the dream,  young me is standing in front of the door between the kitchen and dining room.  The door is open all the way back against the door stop.  I’m standing about 18” in front of the door.  Mom is standing about 18” in front of me facing me.  

Present Me is watching this from a vantage about 3 feet behind and to the right of my mom. Young me is about 6 inches shorter than mom.  So 4’8 maybe?  I think she was about 5’2”  I’m guessing 7-8.   Could be older.  This fits the graphs for height for 8-9 year old boy.

 Young Me’s eyes are wide open.  He/I know what is about to happen.  Mom will step back on her right heel, then push off, while raising her arms half bent.  She will put the heels of her thumbs into the pockets in the front of my shoulders, fingers wrapping around the tops of my shoulders, and push hard – like a hockey stick check, without the stick.  My head snaps forward, as she pushes hard.  My shoulder blades hit the door first, then my head hits the door hard enough to see stars.  My breath knocked out of me, I slide to the floor.

That’s what I know will happen.  In this dream, I know this has happened before.  I also know that I have to keep silent.  If I make a noise she will pick me up and repeat it.  So that means it’s happened at least twice before.  Once noisy and once silent.

There is also memory of a memory in the dream of it being the front door, which would have been seated in it’s jamb, and instead of being hollowcore it was solid fir.  I suspect both were used depending on how angry she was.

I don’t think this happens a lot.  At the very most a few times a year from age 8 to 11.  Maybe only 3 times total. No known basis for this knowledge.

 Made up?  Maybe.  How do I know?  

Age 8?  I have a photo of my dad and I in a garden on a university campus.  He is dressed up. Summer weight grey suit.  We are facing each other about 4 feet apart, both looking not at each other, but looking at the ground about 3 feet to one side of the other’s feet. This picture made me consider that both he and I may be ASD.  I’ve taken some of the online tests.  Borderline on most of them.

Age 9?: Sis says in  hindsight, I'm dirty, clothing dirty whenever she visits.  House is dirty, cluttered and coated in nicotine. My memory is of weekly bathing.  Saturday night. Not sure of how consistent this was.  I apparently don't mind or don't notice. It still doesn't bother me to wear the same clothing all the time.